


Lisa Baby

by Jeji4



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 'cuz why not, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Music, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Non-binary character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Trans Character, Victor spelled with a k, a whole lot of walk the moon, also some classical music, idk how to tag, just a lot of song references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 22:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9790619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeji4/pseuds/Jeji4
Summary: Yuri's never figured out why music was so necessary to dance. He could win without it.Otabek just wanted to write some music for the band, but with no inspiration, it's pretty much lost.AKA a weird au where Yuri and Otabek are in high school, the age gap is a lot closer, one dances one plays the bass, and they somehow fall in love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, it's me with my very first fic on ao3. I've always been too embarrassed with my writing to even try publishing here, but I decided why not. It's probably gonna suck, but whatever. I was just really hung up on a few songs by walk the moon, and whooaaa inspiration struck, and I just really needed to get it out of my system. And here it is!

**_Yuri_ **

I was fifteen years old when I met my first friend.

It came as a surprise, really. I’ve never interacted with the music students much despite my devotion to the arts. Even after dancing for almost all of my life, since the day I could walk, I’ve constantly been on my feet, moving to a melody that didn’t even have to exist.

Meeting him was a lot like dancing. Any performer could move, and they’d look good without the music behind them - the balls of their feet, the arch in their back, and even the wave of each individual strand of hair behind them - anyone could see that. But with the right music, the movement of music would bend with them, twist, and _dance_. It’s what made a performance a performance.

But still… I never found the need to have music in order to dance well.

Every other dancer I’ve ever interacted with seemed to want the music though. They acted as if they needed it to win, which they don’t. At the time, I hadn’t lost a single competition. At the time, I didn’t listen to the music. I found the tempo, and I kept with it, and I won.

I didn’t need the music.

I didn’t need it to give me the emotion I need for a performance; I can do that on my own.

I can move my own body. I can control my own body. I can force my own body. It’s my body.

My body.

That kept up until Mila managed to drag me to one of the school’s dance team’s practices.

***

Today’s practice with Lilia didn’t go as well as it usually did - not that they went well in the first place. She apparently choreographed something new, something with “more emotion,” as she put it. And if I could recall, the way she said it was something along the lines of, “It’s about time you learned emotions you _stubborn, spoiled brat_.” Something like that.

I barely noticed Mila joining me in stride while I fumed. “Learn some emotions, I’ll show you emotions you stone-cold b--” but Mila’s hand found it’s way over my mouth before I could finish.

“Yuri! There are still people around!”

Did I care? Not really.

But I stopped talking anyway. There's not use in ranting when Mila wouldn't care. If anything, she'd find some sort of opportunity to poke fun at me.

We left the studio, and started our way back to our neighboring houses. The cool, early spring breeze felt nice against my warm skin, the sweat finally drying off my neck after hours of endless work. It was still too soon in the season for the sun to be too harsh, the light from behind the clouds only a gentle radiance. I’ve always liked this transition from winter to spring, right after my birthday. It was a good way to calm down after so much time with Lilia.

“So, Yura, are you thinking of doing the dance team next year?” Mila asked. I was waiting for her to mention it. By now, I've learned to expect it, especially after walking together for so long.

“Mila, I’ve already told you, I don’t want to.”

“Just try it, at least!” She gave me a pouty look, one that almost anyone else would say was sexy, but after knowing her for most of my life, it just seems stupid and immature.

I felt my eyes roll in retaliation rather than words coming out of my mouth. I guess at this point, I’ve already told her off so many times, I didn’t feel the need to try again. She knows I wouldn’t do it unless I were forced.

“Come on, Yuri,” she begged. I don’t even know why she wants me to do it. “I know what you’re thinking, and we need you on the team because you’re just that good! I bet that the coach would let you on without even auditioning. You know how Minako is.”

 _How does she always manage to read my mind? It’s getting kind of creepy_.

Honestly, I didn’t exactly like Minako. I’ve known her my whole life, and she was a little unsettling - for me, at least. Well, I didn’t _know_ her, but I knew of her, and I think that’s enough to form a basic judgement on someon.

She was an instructor at the same studio that Mila and I have danced at for what felt like forever, and apparently now that coach for the dance team at our school. Minako and Lilia were pretty much the opposite ends of the spectrum at the studio - one a renowned ballerina that’s studied the art her whole life, and the other another that’s traveled the world, won rewards, and drank way too much.

Mila seemed to love Minako, choosing to learn from her instead of Lilia. Maybe it was their matching, shameless attitude that brought them together, because that’s certainly what drove me away from the Japanese woman.

Her constant drinking into the nights, partying until she dropped dead, and dancing at clubs until she couldn’t move anymore - it all pointed to that one word that could describe her.

Shameless.

She showed off her body in the way that I never could, and with her gathered knowledge of other types of dance, her students also learned it. Just thinking about trying something that… revealing was all it took for me to decide to stay away from her.

I’d never dance like that. She’d never be able to teach me that way - it’d never work.

“You know how I feel about Minako, Mila.” I wasn’t even trying at this point. We’ve gone over this too many times, and if she didn’t get it by now, she never would.

Mila was the only one who knew about _me_ , other than Lilia of course. As my instructor, and as her star pupil, she had to know everything about me. As Mila’s also my only friend, it wasn’t really a choice on my part about either of them knowing.

This seemed to stop her for a while, and I was grateful for any moment of silence when around her.

Even though I wasn’t looking at her, I could feel her frown deepening.

“Seriously, just come to one practice, even if you’re just watching the rehearsal. You don’t have to change or dance, or _anything_ at all, okay?”

I froze.

This was something new. She’s never gone so far as to let up in order to convince me to go.

“Seriously, just think about it, okay?”

Another new thing: she let it go.

I shook it off, still walking without letting the weird behavior bother me.

“We have rehearsal tomorrow before school. We can walk together, if you want. Just catch me before I leave, okay?”

I stayed quiet, and again, we left it at that.

***

A bark greeted me as I walked through the front door. The fragrance of flowers replaced the cool spring breeze, and the sizzling of cooking oil along with the matching scent of his cooking wafted through the doorway to the kitchen. Just as usual, my grandfather could be heard humming if you knew what to listen for.

I set down my bag as quickly as I could before an energetic bundle of fur could completely knock me down. As always, Viktor followed.

Makkachin jumped up, paws holding her up on my torso, her quick breathing right in my face.

 _Disgusting_.

“Makkachin! Don’t kill Yuri!”

I rolled my eyes. I wouldn’t doubt that it was actually Viktor that trained his dog to tackle whoever came through that door.

After finally managing to pull Makkachin off, I was immediately swallowed in a hug by Viktor.

“Yura! My favorite little sibling!” he cooed, squeezing all the air out of my lungs.

“Your only sibling,” I pointed out.

He continued ruffling my hair and giving me that _stupid shit-eating grin_ \--

Grandpa’s head popped around the corner. “Yuratchka, how was practice?”

I replied, shoving Viktor’s arms off from around my shoulders, “Good enough that I’m still alive.”

Grandpa laughed, that full sound carrying a wave of relief through my shoulders. It’s always given me the feeling of _home_. “That’s good. Vitya, set that table, would you? Yuri, go get ready. Yuuri’s coming over for dinner.”

At the mention of his boyfriend, Viktor started shaking a bit, and I did my best to refrain from groaning. We’ve never met him before, and our only source of information was Viktor. And of course, that doesn’t work out too well.

_He’s the most precious thing in the whole world! He could beat anyone in a beauty contest, and his legs, my goodness his legs!_

I do my best not to listen to him most of the time.

All I know for sure is that he is on the dance team. According to Mila, he’s actually pretty good, Minako having been his instructor his whole life. Just from the fact that Minako was the one who taught him gives me an idea of what he might be like though.

With the distraction of the other Yuuri, I finally managed to escape up the stairs to my small room. On my way up the stairs, Viktor’s continuous babbling about how his boyfriend _“is my soulmate, oh my goodness, I love him so much, I wish I could just--”_

Finally shutting out all the sounds with my door, I breathed out a sigh. Sometimes, it’s just physically draining to be around him. It’s almost like he feeds on the energy of everyone around him to fuel himself, the selfish bastard.

A light pitter patter of tiny feet bring me out of my thoughts. A bundle of white with a light blue collar suddenly appeared by my feet, and purring fills my silent room. I squat down, and gently scratch Sasha behind her ears.

“Hello Sasha,” I greet under my breath before standing back up to change.

Sasha lies down next to the closed door, and I begin undressing. I try my best not to glance at the small mirror hung up on the wall when I take off my shirt.

_Now here comes the hard part._

As if she could hear my thoughts, Sasha softly purrs again, almost like she’s trying to reassure me.

I grab the hem of the black binder wrapped around my torso. Underneath the tight fabric, my fingers sit a while.

 _I don’t want to take it off_.

But I’ve already been lectured by Viktor, Mila, Grandpa, and even Lilia enough times to know that I have to take it off. Today was a better day than others, so I could live without it for a bit.

I start to pull up, it slowly folding and rolling off my stomach. I quickly avert my eyes from anything lower than my shoulders, and I turn away from that damned mirror.

_Just don’t look, Yuri._

An unexpected and loud knock interrupts me, and I lose my grip on the binder.

I’m stuck.

“Yuri!” Viktor sang. “Do you need any help?”

“Not before you got here, you idiot!” I yell back. In other words: _please come in, I do_.

I refused to look towards the door as it clicks shut behind him, trying to will down the flustered blush on my cheeks as if my hands weren’t stuck inside the binder. Viktor’s chortles make that pretty hard to do though.

“Yura, how did this even happen?!” he cackles.

I growl back, “Shut up and help me.”

I give him a few seconds. My attempts at ignoring him were futile at this point.

After he finally calms down, I feel a soft touch on my back, just under where the fold of the fabric currently is. It’s a warning, something to help me acknowledge the fact that _my brother is about to see the stupid fucking lumps on my chest._ It’s not as if he’s never seen them before, but it’s always so awkward, and him seeing what only I usually see just makes it that much more real.

He hurriedly helps me tug it off, and I tell him not to look while I start to throw on some clothes.

As I reached for the sports bra lying on the floor, he spoke up.

“Yuuri’s not coming.” _You don’t have to_.

I only say, “Oh,” and instead wriggle myself into a loose t-shirt and shorts. It was one of Viktor’s shirts, but I know he doesn’t mind. He’s the one who gave it to me in the first place.

“Why isn’t he coming?” I asked while I gathered my blond hair into a lump on the top of my head, pulling it together with a hair-tie. Judging from how excited he was earlier, I expected him to be a lot more upset about his boyfriend not coming to dinner.

Viktor seemed to have figured out my thoughts, and shrugged, waving his hand around, “It’s fine. He called, saying he doesn’t feel well.”

_What a great boyfriend this guy is._

“Just try to be understanding, Yura,” he continued. “And if you’re thinking he’s a bad person, he’s really a lot like you. You probably would’ve gotten along.”

_Sure, whatever._

“Just come down when you’re ready to eat.”

Viktor leaves.

***

After thinking about it all night long, and since the second I woke up, I managed to catch Mila before she left for her dance team practice.

At the sight of me in clothes barely thrown together, a backpack for school, and a bag of clothes and shoes, she froze.

“Yuri! I didn’t actually expect you to come! You even brought your stuff!”

I shrugged her off.

“Let’s just go already. I hate going to school early, and I’d hate to be late for something when I worked so hard to get up.”

She enthusiastically jumped in place and beamed at me before looping her arm through my elbow. “Let’s go!”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a solid schedule when it comes to writing, so don't expect frequent updates. Sorry about that. Thanks for reading this far :)


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